


Maybe I Would Like You Better (If You Took Off Your Clothes)

by SOMETHINREAL



Series: junhancheol are a mess [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, No actual drugs tho, Polyamory, Porn With Plot, Threesome - M/M/M, cameos from the other boys, rise bottom Cheol 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:01:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25186828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SOMETHINREAL/pseuds/SOMETHINREAL
Summary: Seungcheol’s convinced that Junhui and Jeonghan are, and have been, screwing for an indeterminable amount of time and are keeping it from him. Very poorly, he should add.(alternatively: the one where Seungcheol's dream is to be sandwiched between junhan.)
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Wen Jun Hui | Jun, Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Yoon Jeonghan, Wen Jun Hui | Jun/Yoon Jeonghan, Wen Junhui/Yoon Jeonghan/Choi Seungheol | S.Coups
Series: junhancheol are a mess [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1824598
Comments: 13
Kudos: 133





	Maybe I Would Like You Better (If You Took Off Your Clothes)

**Author's Note:**

> so this idea just kinda came to me at one am last week and I just HAD to write it so.  
> yes cheol is a sweet baby bottom and you cannot change my mind. ft mild dom! han and soft dom! junhui.  
> and if you were wondering how two doms ever got by fucking each other, it probably entailed a lot of bickering  
> title from if you're too shy (let me know) by the 1975

Seungcheol and Jeonghan just sort of work. They’ve always worked, and if they hadn’t Seungcheol is sure that his life would have been much harder. They’re sort of like clockwork; the way that they’ve been in this sort of limbo between being together and not being together since they were teens doesn’t even bother them at this point. It’s where Junhui comes into all this that the water starts to get murky. 

He and Jeonghan, like Seungheol and the latter do, go together like clockwork. With Seungcheol on the other hand, it’s sort of like he’s a puzzle piece that’s supposed to fit but was cut poorly during manufacture. That is not to say, however, that Seungcheol doesn’t like Junhui. On the contrary-- how could he not when Junhui is so sweet and handsome and caring? It’s just that there’s something a little off about the whole thing. 

See, Seungcheol’s convinced that Junhui and Jeonghan are, and have been, screwing for an indeterminable amount of time and are keeping it from him. Very poorly, he should add. Seungcheol’s actually sort of ashamed that he hadn’t realized earlier. What, from the way that Jeonghan will put his hand on the back of Junhui’s neck and squeeze casually to shut him up, or Junhui will nudge Jeonghan seemingly without reason after he says something particularly crude. 

It had always been weird with Junhui, but not in the way one would expect. It sort of felt to Seungcheol that he belonged with them, but he always felt out of place when Junhui was there. 

(Take for instance the time he and Jeonghan were going to see that new horror flick that had just hit the theatres. Seungcheol had gotten ready and everything, putting his shoes on and fixing his hair in the mirror by the door as Jeonghan had said, “Oh, forgot to say-- Jun’s gonna meet us there, that cool?”

It would have been cool, if only Seungcheol had known earlier, as he’d been planning on hiding his face in Jeonghan’s neck for the whole movie, and now there was a middleman he needed to work his way around. Of course, Seungcheol hadn’t voiced his concerns. “Yeah, cool.”

Jeonghan had shot him a prize-winning smile. “Great, because he already bought a ticket and I would feel bad otherwise.”

Seungcheol _did_ spend the whole film hiding in Jeonghan’s shoulder, but he felt sort of weird about it the whole time).

Now, Seungcheol doesn’t really care what Jeonghan gets up to. He and Jeonghan are not _really_ dating. They never have been; always teetering on the line that comes between genuinely flirting and guys being dudes. That being said, it’s very hard for him to process the whole “Jeonghan and Junhui are secretly banging” thing when Jeonghan is always holding his cheeks and calling him baby and Junhui is always touching him discreetly without cause and telling him he’s cute. 

It also doesn’t help that Seungcheol’s ideal night is sandwiched between the both of them. In any context one could think up. 

It puts him in a very peculiar predicament. One that can’t be solved by fantasizing about a world where they do nothing but call him sweet things and they live on a farm in the middle of nowhere. 

Because Seungcheol has to interact with them together at least twice a week, and Jeonghan lives with him, so there’s no real way for him to avoid that. What can he do?

Mostly, he just suffers. 

-

Seungcheol shows up at Junhui’s apartment block on a rainy Saturday to pick up Jeonghan since his car is in the shop. He’s never actually been inside Junhui’s apartment, only on the street outside of it to pick him or Jeonghan up because he always ends up being their chauffeur. He parks his car in the visitors lot and uses the elevator to make it up to Junhui’s floor. He only knows where his apartment is because Jeonghan never really seems to shut up about the fact that Junhui’s apartment number is also his favourite number. 

(“I mean, how crazy is that, Cheollie?” he’s always asking. 

“It’s very crazy,” Seungcheol always replies.

“One of my best friends living in an apartment with _my_ favourite number. My favourite number! It’s gotta be like, fate or something. Ha!”)

The door is sort of chipped in places and Junhui has a little cat knocker on it, which Seungcheol uses. After a few moments, the door swings open, revealing a confused looking Junhui behind it in his ‘home clothes’, which are essentially the same hair dye stained band shirt and sweats that are so old they’re wearing thin in places. He still manages to pull it off though.

Also, it’s a good time to mention that his hair is pink ( _pink_ !!), and not some pastel shit. It’s pinker than _pink_. Like, darker than flamingo pink but not quite magenta. How can this man still manage to look this good even with all of the things he puts on his body? 

“Cheol?” he asks. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for Jeonghan?” he phrases it like a question because he’s confused as to why Junhui doesn’t know this. Jeonghan had to have mentioned it right?

“He went home already,” Junhui says. “I don’t know why. Something about a surprise? He took the bus.”

Okay then. Good to know that Seungcheol drove all the way out here for nothing and Jeonghan didn’t even call him. “He didn’t say anything,” Seungcheol says. 

“His phone died. And you know him, needing to be different with his--”

“Android,” they say at the same time. 

“I texted you,” Junhui says. “To let you know you didn’t need to come. You didn’t see?”

No, clearly not if he’s standing in the doorway. Seungcheol pulls out his phone and scrolls until he reaches a little Kakao message. _Hey_ , it says, _Jeonghan decided to take transit and leave early, so don’t worry about coming to get him xx_. “I was driving.” Which he was, so, valid reason not to look at his phone. Still, he’s miffed he drove all the way here and now he's got nothing to do. 

“Well you’re here now,” Junhui says with a shrug. “Want to watch a movie?”

What does Seungcheol really have to lose? He shrugs and steps forward. 

“Your hair,” Seungcheol says, albeit rather dumbly. “It’s pink.” It’s not really just pink. It’s more fuschia, but Seungcheol isn't dwelling on it.

He’s in Junhui’s apartment now, it would seem. It dawns on him that he would know it were Junhui’s apartment even if he didn’t know it were Junhui’s apartment. Which doesn’t make sense, but to Seungcheol it might as well have. He’s got these cool Chinese movie posters on the wall and a nice flatscreen and a PS4 (that Seungcheol knows he really only uses to watch Netflix and occasionally play Overwatch on), and in the corner under the small bookshelf (which hold things like Murakami, Hemingway, and Ginsberg) sits a milk crate of (likely) thrifted vinyls. The first one is a compilation of American 1940’s hits. Junhui’s always liked that retro stuff. 

Junhui twists a piece of the hair in between his fingers, like he needs to think about it. “Oh, this? Yeah, I did it on Wednesday because I was bored. Do you like it?” 

Like it? Seungcheol can’t find the words to describe how this particular look on Junhui makes him feel, other than dizzy, and maybe a little woozy. Like he might die if he looks for too long. “It’s nice,” is what he decides to say. It’s the most neutral, after all. “You’re good at pulling off weird colours like that.” 

Junhui laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Thanks,” he says. He’s currently pulling some snacks out of the cupboard in his open concept kitchen. Another Junhui thing, but this one Seungcheol can’t really explain. “You’re good with hair colours too. The silver was nice. I really liked that soft auburn-y colour on you, though. You looked really cute.”

Seungcheol remembers it. He’s done it with Jeonghan’s help on a whim last Autumn and it hadn’t lasted very long, really. It used to look good with his favourite sweater, but that’s pretty much all Seungcheol remembers about it. He’s not even sure he has any photos to commemorate it. “You remember that?”

“Of course I do,” Junhui says, like it’s obvious. He tosses Seungcheol a bag of chips and searches in his fridge for the French onion dip. “Like I said,” he produces the dip and comes over to the couch where Seungcheol has seated himself. “You looked really good.”

“Oh,” Seungcheol says. He can feel his cheeks get warm. “Thanks. You too,” he adds. “Right now, I mean.” 

“Thanks,” Junhui says, grabbing the remote. “It’s a little stringy from the bleach, but with a few conditions and that hair mask Hannie gave me it should go back to normal soon.” 

Seungcheol doesn’t think before he sticks out a hand to touch Junhui’s hair, and for a moment, he’s just petting Junhui and Junhui is _letting_ him, and then he pulls his hand back and the odd moment passes.

“I’ve seen worse,” is all Seungcheol says. He can’t look at Junhui, so he turns to the floating bookshelf and strains to see the knick knacks Junhui’s got up there. (An alpaca toy from when his rich aunt travelled to Chile, an I heart NY shot glass, Dominoes from Cuba, a Geisha doll, and one of those frog things that croak when you stroke their back with the little stick).

“Yeah, probably. At least it’s even. I know well enough to bleach my roots last because--”

“Because the heat from your head makes it work faster,” Seungcheol finishes. Junhui’s sorta been on this whole Brad Mondo thing since he downloaded Tik Tok. He’s schooled Seungcheol on this one too many times. 

“Yeah,” Junhui says. He’s good at shrugging things off like that, like he doesn’t even understand that Seungcheol was semi-mocking him. It’s another very Junhui thing. “Glad you remembered. Next time you bleach, you’ll think of me.”

There’s hardly a time when Seungcheol _isn’t_ thinking about him, but it’s not appropriate to say so he just laughs a little. “Probably won’t be for a long time. Anyways. What do you want to watch?”

“They just put the Ghibli movies on Netflix,” Junhui suggests. 

They watch Studio Ghibli films until it feels like their eyes are bleeding. Seungcheol crashes on the couch because Junhui’s not got an extra room and he wasn’t going to ask to _share_. He sleeps with a blanket that Junhui had fished out of the hall closet, one that he’d said his mother had crocheted after Seungcheol had complimented the softness and the weight of it. In the morning, he wakes with a crick in his neck and leaves after tea feeling vaguely like he was meant to do something and neglected it. He moves on. 

-

What bothers Seungcheol most are the lies that Jeonghan thinks up. It doesn’t bother him that he’s lying, just the way he’s doing it. Jeonghan is not a bad liar in the slightest. In fact, he’d probably be a great gambler. It’s the nature of his lies that just boggle Seugncheol’s mind. 

Today, he walks into the living room wearing Junhui’s The Smiths shirt. Seungcheol knows it’s Junhui’s because he wears it constantly and is always saying things like _I love The Smiths but think Morrissey is a piece of shit_ , and, _it’s hard to separate the artist from the art, so I just pretend he’s dead most of the time_. Junhui’s pretty cool about it, though. He doesn’t make it a personality trait. 

“Is that a new shirt?” Seungcheol asks, even though he knows it’s not, technically. He’s got Jeopardy on the TV with subtitles. It’s a rerun. 

Instead of just saying _yes_ , like a normal person would when confronted with the implication that they’re sleeping with their close friend, Jeonghan says, “no, it’s Jun’s.”

Seungcheol mentally facepalms. “Why do you have Junhui’s shirt?” It’s code for _Cut the crap, little man_. 

“Oh,” Jeonghan says, pausing a second. It’s likely to think up something. “He spilled some food on it the other day, so I offered to wash it for him. I guess I just threw it on.” Jeonghan shrugs.

Magnificent. Seungcheol has never seen such flawless delivery. It’s almost like he’s not entirely see-through. “Ah,” Seungcheol just says, because he’s not got the mental capacity to both actively think about what context Jeonghan actually ended up with Junhui’s shirt in or question him on the matter. 

Jeonghan hums. “So how was work?” 

It’s crazy how fast it’s dropped, and also how fast Seungcheol loses interest. He tells Jeonghan the same thing he always does, “same old, same old. Joshua brought me a cookie that Hansol baked and it was good. I’m not a hundred percent sure there wasn’t weed in it though. I did feel kinda tired after eating it, and my body felt different but it was probably because I’d skipped breakfast.”

“Why would Josh give you a pot cookie at work without telling you?”

“You know they have a weird stoner agenda.”

Jeonghan purses his lips. “Fair point.” Joshua and Hansol are always asking Seungcheol if he wants to “ball up,” which he assumes means smoke weed. He’s not particularly against it, but he doesn’t like the smells sticking to his clothes, so he’d be more inclined to try an edible. Regardless, he wouldn’t put it past them to secretly drug him so he can chill out for once. “If you were going to do it, I’d probably get it from them. Jun smokes sometimes, but he still hits up the guy that he’d been seeing before it was legal and I honestly don’t trust that.”

Seungcheol’s back goes a little rigid, and he can’t explain why. “Yeah probably not,” he says. It’s the end of conversation. 

They spend the rest of the night answering Jeopardy clues and pretending they’re contestants. You know, like normal people do.

-

It’s a warm day when Seungcheol goes to the park with his friends. They’d gone to the park for a picnic, but the food and blankets, alongside Seungcheol and Wonwoo, have since been forgotten in favour of a game of frisbee. Seungcheol had graciously declined due to the fact that he’s inept in all aspects when it comes to sports, and Wonwoo is similarly inclined. It made sense for them to opt out of this one. 

“They’re such idiots,” Wonwoo comments, and yeah, they sort of are. It’s not every day you see a group of grown men diving for a flimsy plastic frisbee. It’s also not every day that you see that same group of men behaving like petulant children over a friendly game of catch. Seungcheol can only shake his head as he watches Soonyoung dive head first into the ground into a roll, proudly showing off the red disc as he stands. His team cheers as the others boo at him. 

“Unfortunately,” Seungcheol starts, “it’s too late to get rid of them now. But, hey. At least we’ve got some insane stories to tell. ” Some of the things that their friends get themselves into work as great ice breakers, but Seungcheol really wishes he was making up the time that they’d all dared Mingyu to do a cement mixer shot after eating three year old frozen pizza and he’d projectiled all over Jihoon’s back lawn. 

“I’ll drink to that,” murmurs, and does actually drink to that. They’re both drinking orange soda. The cans are sweating from the heat. 

The blanket beneath him, tied with the warmth in the air and the lack of sun from the tree they’re under constitute for great sleeping conditions. That, tied with the fact that Seungcheol has just gorged himself on everything they’d packed, adds up to a very sleepy person. He closes his eyes, and for a moment, he thinks he might be able to nap until--

“Oh, shit.”

Seungcheol hardly has to open his eyes before: “ _Cheollieeeee!!!_ ” 

He can only sigh. What has Yoon Jeonghan gotten himself into now? 

Sitting up, Seungcheol can now see Jeonghan limping towards him, his left pant leg ripped to expose his knee, which, if Seungcheol squints hard enough, he can see is red. “What have you done now?” Seungcheol asks, moving to stand so he can meet Jeonghan halfway. When he gets to him, he slips an arm under him and helps him limp to the car, because he’s got a first aid kit in there. Why wouldn’t he when Jeonghan is always injuring himself in the weirdest ways?

“I fell and hurt my knee on a rock,” he says, and it’s sort of baby-ish. If Seungcheol wasn’t head over heels he’d probably be repulsed by it. “It hurts a lot, Cheollie.” 

Seungcheol gets him so that he’s sitting in the open trunk. “I’m sure it does,” Seungcheol says. He fishes the kit and a half-empty water bottle from behind Jeonghan. Bending down, he rips the hole in Jeonghan’s pants further open. Jeonghan makes an indignant sound. “They were ruined anyway. Do you want me to play doctor or not?”

“Yes,” Jeonghan says. “I would very much like you to play doctor.” He’s talking normally again, which is good, but Seungcheol wouldn't put it past him to start acting cute again. 

So Seungcheol pours the water over the wound to wash away the dirt and blades of grass that had been stuck to it, and pats it dry with some gauze from the kit. Jeonghan hisses at the touch, but otherwise doesn’t say anything. To finish, he applies some ointment and a big waterproof bandaid. “There,” he says. “Or did you want me to kiss it better, too?"

Catching Seungcheol by surprise, Jeonghan grips his chin between his thumb and forefinger while his other hand tucks a strand of Seungcheol’s hair behind his ear. “Oh, Cheollie,” he coos. “What would I do without you? Hmm? Always patching me up, dealing with my antics. You’re too good to me.” It sort of sounds condescending, but Seungcheol kind of likes it that way. 

Seungcheol can only blink at him. He doesn’t like how nervous he gets when Jeonghan behaves like this, making him splutter and trip over himself. He finds it’s better to just stay quiet so that he doesn’t make a fool of himself. 

As the icing on the cake, Jeonghan presses a dry kiss to his forehead and pats his cheek. “Thank you, baby,” he says. When he walks away, it’s like he hadn’t just been limping and whining over his scrape, and Seungcheol distantly wonders how much of that was just for show. 

Even though Jeonghan has left, Seungcheol is still sitting on the ground in front of his open trunk, thinking. 

Just thinking. 

-

Junhui is really bad at hiding it too, Seungcheol finds. It’s a rare occasion that Seungcheol finds himself alone with Junhui, but he also finds that he likes it. Junhui’s actually really fun to be around, in some sort of backhanded way. He’s sort of a dork at the same time he’s actually very smart and cool. 

Somehow, he and Seungcheol end up in the apartment together. Something about Jeonghan running to the store but it needing to be alone for whatever reason. They’re sitting on the floor, sweating bottles of beer between them, with some alternative American music playing from Junhui’s phone. It’s the kind of stuff that Seungcheol probably would have listened to in high school, but dropped later. Regardless, the heat from the open window is getting to him and he feels just on the right side of tipsy, where his brain is sort of fuzzy and his limbs feel light. 

Junhui is similarly inclined, but his only tell is the slight pink in his cheeks and the way his eyes blink slowly. 

“Fuck,” he says, pressing his beer bottle to his forehead. “It’s as hot as hell in here. Jeonghan better be bringing back some ice cream or something.”

“My bedroom has the portable A/C unit,” Seungcheol says with a shrug. 

It’s how they end up on Seungcheol’s floor, another beer down the hatch, with Junhui rucking his shirt up his back to let the cold air dry the sweat. 

Now, Seungcheol shouldn’t be looking in the first place and he knows that. He also knows that his ogling at Junhui’s now exposed torso is likely not as sly as he imagines, but Junhui doesn’t realize regardless because his head is tipped back and his eyes are closed. The first thing he notices is that Junhui’s skin is tan and unblemished, and that it looks soft to the touch. The second, and arguably most important thing that he notices is the finger shaped bruises on Junhui’s hips. 

He does, admittedly in poor taste, touch these. 

“Where’d you get those?” Seungcheol asks. He, even in his drunken stupor, knows where they came from.

Junhui looks vaguely embarrassed, but doesn’t pull his shirt down. “Oh, you know,” he says, waving his hand vaguely in the air like it’ll give Seungcheol any idea what he’s supposed to know. “Picked up a guy at a bar. He was very handsy. I bruise easily, you know.” 

Right, sure. That’s believable enough, except, Seungcheol doesn’t believe it. Whatever. “Oh, nice score, man,” he says, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

“Yeah,” Junhui says. Nonchalant, like he’s trying to brush it off. “It was alright I guess.”

They spend the rest of their time silently drinking and waiting for Jeonghan to return. And yes, in his infinite wisdom, Jeonghan brings back ice cream.

-

It reaches a point where Seungcheol can’t take it anymore. It’s almost like they don’t even care to hide it. They come home together one day with twin bruises on their necks, and when Junhui tries to cuddle Jeonghan (because they’re both inconceivably touchy), he just sinks into his touch further. Seungcheol can only handle so much. He’s only human. 

There’s a night where Junhui is over that they’re drinking soju mixers and are watching some quasi-gay Chinese show with Korean subtitles on the floor because Junhui said it was good. It feels like the hottest day of the year, and weird soju ice cream floats that Jeonghan found a recipe for on Pinterest can only do so much to cool them down. Jeonghan is wearing a wife-beater that’s got a stain on it from the time they got drunk and he spilled tteokbokki on it and Junhui is wearing a muscle shirt that shows off the fact that he’s lean and strong and has teeth marks on his ribs. 

A moment passes, brief enough that if it were anyone but Seungcheol, and done by anyone other than Jeonghan to Junhui that it would go unnoticed, but it’s not anyone else, and Seungcheol absolutely notices the way Jeonghan squeezes the meat of Junhui’s thigh. 

He sits up quickly, startling the other two. The fast movement makes his head spin, but he figures if he’s going to say something then he might as well make it theatrical.

“Look,” he says. “I know you guys are sleeping together. You’re really shit at hiding it.” Jeonghan opens his mouth to speak, but Seungcheol continues. “And I just want to say that it’s cool. I don’t know why you thought you had to hide it from me. I’m honestly surprised that you guys haven't been doing it for longer.”

“We were going to tell you,” Junhui says. 

Jeonghan nods. “We wanted to find the right words.”

“No, I get it,” Seungcheol says. “It’s weird to tell the third wheel that he’s really a third wheel and not just imagining things. And I don’t mind, seriously. We just gotta work out some rules n’ stuff. I don’t wanna find you guys--”

Seungcheol isn’t sure he’s not imagining it when Junhui leans forward and lays a fat one on him. He doesn’t kiss back, brain too foggy to fully comprehend both the fact that Junhui is kissing him and that he’s probably _supposed_ to be doing it back. Junhui’s mouth is warm and soft and Seungcheol can feel the lightest touch of his tongue at the seam of his mouth. He kisses like he has something to prove. 

“Why would you do that?” Seungcheol asks incredulously when Junhui pulls away. His face is hot and it’s not the humidity. “Jeonghan is right there.” He can’t seem to wrap his head around it. 

“You’re so impatient, Junnie,” Jeonghan says. And it just makes Seungcheol even more confused. 

“I don’t understand,” he says. The heat in the air and the alcohol in his veins make it come out like a whine. Jeonghan just shoots him one of his coy smiles, and it’s just like him, to toy with Seungcheol like this. “Can you please tell me what’s really going on?”

“ _We_ want _you_ ,” Junhui says. “We sort of always have.”

Hold the phone. _What_? 

Seungcheol doesn’t say anything. He’s not sure he physically could; in fact, he’s pretty sure that the speech part of his brain just says _ERROR 404: COHESIVE THOUGHTS NOT FOUND_ in big red letters. The thinking part of his brain swamps him with a million questions at once. What does Junhui mean by that? Why would they possibly want Seungcheol? And what do they want him for?

Upon realizing that Seungcheol isn’t going to say anything, Jeonghan says, “What he’s trying to say is that we don’t want an us unless you’re there too.” 

“You mean…” Seungcheol says, staring blankly. “You want me to be there when you guys go on dates? That’s kinda.... _Weird…_. Way to emphasize the fact I’ll be third wheeling, guys.”

Junhui sort of looks like he wants to smack Seungcheol. “No, Cheollie, we want to _date_ you.” 

“Yeah,” Jeonghan says. “We don’t want to date unless you date us too. You know. What’s that thing called?” He points his attention to Junhui. 

“A thruple,” Junhui supplies. Jeonghan pats his knee.

“Yes, that. We want to be a thruple.”

They’re got to be joking, right? Has Seungcheol miraculously woken up in an alternate universe where his dream pair actually want him? He tries to say some words, but it just comes out as a steaming pile of sound garbage. The other two are looking at him and waiting patiently for him to gather his thoughts. 

“You’re… joking right?” is what he settles on. They both look enamoured at the same time they look incredulous. 

“Did you miss the part where I kissed you on the mouth?” 

“I was thinking about kissing you,” Jeonghan tells him, “but I was going to wait until we told you first. Besides, considering how you behaved after Junhui kissed you, I didn’t want to kill you.”

“You could do it,” Seungcheol blurts. Well. He’s in it now. “Kiss me. I wouldn’t mind.” He’s wanted to kiss Jeonghan since he was seventeen. How could he not, with Jeonghan always so teasing and always touching and making him feel small and safe and warm? 

“You want me to?”

“Mhmm. Yeah. Yes.” It’s a stupid answer but it doesn’t stop Jeonghan from crawling towards him and taking his face into his hands. 

Seungcheol feels especially small and vulnerable like this, with Jeonghan staring into his eyes intently, correcting his chin when he tries to turn away from embarrassment. “You’re so cute, baby,” he purrs, “so shy,” and then he kisses Seungcheol. He kisses like he's claiming, and it suits him. The hand on Seungcheol’s neck keeps him steady while his other twists the little soft hairs at the nape of his neck, making Seungcheol shiver. Even though Jeonghan is in Seungcheol’s lap, he’s still completely in control of the kiss. The notion makes Seungcheol’s head spin. 

When Jeonghan pulls away, his lips are ruddy and he’s smirking. “Better now?” he asks, patting Seungcheol’s cheek. He climbs off his lap and retakes his place next to Junhui. 

That is the question, isn’t it. Is Seungcheol better now? Will he ever be satisfied knowing that there’s that and so much more to come from this? Probably not, no. 

He still doesn’t really know what to say, so he just says, “You’re seriously not pulling my leg? Because that would not be cool. I’ve thought about being sandwiched between you two more times than I could count on both hands so if this is just some kind of sick prank I’ll have you know I will be very sad about it.”

“I’m not a _monster_ ,” Jeonghan says. He actually looks sort of offended at the notion, which Seungcheol supposes is a good sign. 

“Demon, maybe,” Junhui says under his breath. Heh. He’s not really wrong about that. 

“Cheollie, we would _never_ do that to you.” Junhui nods in agreement, and reaches out to touch Seungcheol’s knee. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I’ve wanted to do something with you since Jeonghan introduced us. I kinda though you hated me, honestly, so I never did anything about it. It’s not until that day you came over that I really reconsidered it, and then Jeonghan and I talked about it and here we are. You can blame him for this. He’s always going on about your sweet little cheeks and how you come off as tough but you’re just a little baby.”

Seungcheol huffs. “M’ not a little baby.”

“You’re _my_ little baby,” Jeonghan corrects him, thumbing at his cheek. Considering the way that Seungcheol is really considering letting Jeonghan ruin him right now, maybe it’s not so far from the truth. “Aren’t you?”

And it’s like Jeonghan to be like this, to play it off like he’s asking when it’s not a question at all. Seungcheol has a feeling that Junhui’s going to be the soft one in this relationship. 

“Yeah,” Seungcheol says quietly, chewing on his lip and averting his eyes. He can sense that Jeonghan is smirking at him. 

“Piece of advice,” Jeonghan says, and it’s clear he’s speaking to Junhui. “Cheol likes to pretend he’s all big and strong but he’s just a soft baby. If you praise him and call him sweet names he will be a puddle at your feet in no time.”

“That’s not true!” Seungcheol squacks indignantly, even though it’s very much true. 

“Okay, Cheollie,” Jeonghan says. “Baby doll.”

And Junhui pipes up, “ _Baby boy._ ”

It’s not like Seungcheol stood a chance anyways. His face is so hot he imagines he’s bright red. “Okay! It’s a little true. Whatever. Stop embarrassing me,” he pouts. The two of them laugh, and his chest squeezes. “We should go to my room,” he says. “It’s super hot in here and the A/C in my room works the best.”

“This is just a ploy to get us in your bedroom, isn’t it?” 

It’s very clearly a joke, but Jeonghan really isn’t that far off. “If it was, would you be offended?”

“Seriously, Cheollie,” Junhui says, but he’s smiling. “Did you miss the part where we said we’ve wanted you forever?”

It’s how they end up on Seungcheol’s bed with one of them on either side of him. His shirt is on the floor. Jeonghan is kissing him on the mouth while Junhui plants open mouthed ones up and down his neck and shoulders. The air conditioner is loud, but not as loud as his heart in his ears. 

He can’t get over this; the way that the things he would think about in the quiet of his room late at night are actually coming true, the way that Jeonghan purrs into his ear and Junhui likes to nibble at his flushed skin. They’re hardly even done anything to him and he already feels like he might pass out. 

“Oh, shit, please,” he whines when Jeonghan starts to kiss down his chest, tacky with sweat that hasn’t quite dried yet. His tongue circles a nipple as Junhui’s fingers dip into the hem of his shorts, just teasing.

“What’s that for?” Jeonghan asks. “We’ve only just started with you.” 

Seungcheol presses his knees together instinctively. The underlying promise of _more_ hangs over him, pulled back every time he tries to reach it. Always coming but never arriving. He doesn’t remember being this easy. 

“I didn’t know you were so easy,” Junhui says, like reading Seunghcheol’s mind. “Or maybe it’s just us?”

He sinks his teeth into the meat of Seungcheol’s shoulder, the same way Seungcheol does it to Jeonghan when he wants attention but won’t ask for it. Seungcheol hisses, but Junhui doesn’t let up. Seungcheol doesn’t think he wants him to. 

“Do we do it for you _that_ much?” Jeonghan asks. He’s bordering on condescension and Seungcheol wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“What do you think?” Seungcheol asks. It’s rhetorical. 

Jeonghan slips his slender hands in between Seungcheol’s thighs and pries them open. He leans in to nuzzle in between his legs, and Seungcheol’s hands fly to his hair, pulling. He’s not sure if it’s to stop Jeonghan or to push him in further.

“Oh, god,” he murmurs. Junhui pulls his head to the side to kiss him. It’s a lot like the first kiss, with the same force, the same feeling, the same tongue sliding across the seam of his mouth, the only difference is the awkward angle. His neck is sort of aching, but he really couldn’t care less. He reaches the other hand, the one that’s not holding Jeonghan down, to grip the back of Junhui’s head and hold him there, as though he would even think of moving. 

Seungcheol lifts his hips when Jeonghan tugs at his shorts, and he breaks the kiss only to allow him to slide them down. He has to kick his legs out from underneath himself to get them off, but after a few moments of shimmying they finally fall in a heap on the floor next to his t-shirt. His head is braced on Junhui’s chest, which he can feel is still clothed. The same goes for Jeonghan, who’s also fully dressed. 

“This isn’t fair,” Seungcheol says. Jeonghan is absentmindedly running his fingers up and down Seungcheol’s thighs, tan from his time at Jihoon’s pool. Junhui’s tongue makes a wet trail from just under his ear to the edge of his shoulder. “I’m basically naked and you two are still fully clothed.”

He’s vaguely aware of the fact that he’s pouting like a baby, but he finds he doesn’t really care. 

“Maybe we should,” Junhui says. “Don’t want Cheollie to get all whiny.”

“You think?” Jeonghan asks. “I’m comfortable the way I am.”

“You guys are the worst,” Seungcheol whines, thus proving Junhui’s point. Jeonghan just laughs and leans forward to kiss him. Behind him, he can feel Junhui slip off his shirt. After parting, Jeonghan does the same. 

“Are we derobed to your satisfaction?” Junhui asks sarcastically. Seungcheol turns so he’s facing him, and lets his eyes roam over him, his tan skin, the bite-shaped bruise on his ribs. 

“It’ll do,” Seungcheol tells him. “For now.”

He feels a strong urge to leave a mark of his own on Junhui. Seungcheol, never one to deny himself of the little things, nudges Junhui so he’s on his back. From here, Seungcheol straddles his hips so he can get his mouth on him. His skin is salty from sweat and he reacts delightfully to Seungcheol biting at his collar bone. 

Sucking in air through his teeth, Junhui grips at the back of Seungcheol’s head. He lets out a little moan, one that would have been inaudible had Seungcheol not been listening for it. 

“That’s good,” Jeonghan tells him, now on his side beside Junhui. “He likes it a lot here, too. He’ll go crazy just from kissing there.” He points his finger to the place where his jaw meets his neck. 

Seeing as he has nothing better to do, Seungcheol takes Jeonghan’s advice and attaches his mouth to the space he’d pointed out, suckling at the skin. 

“Oh, fuck,” Junhui huffs out, fingers tightening. “You’ll kill me if you do that.”

“You like it that much?” Seungcheol asks, and he’s grinning. 

“You’re one to talk,” Junhui says, taking this moment of Seungcheol letting his guard down to flip them so he’s on top. “Just a minute ago you were making all sorts of crazy sounds just from me and Hannie kissing you.”

From beside them, Jeonghan hums and slips a hand in between them, toying with Seungcheol. “I wonder,” he purrs, grinning fox-like. “What kinds of sounds you’ll make when we really get in on you, huh?” Seungcheol makes a pitiful noise.

At some point, his boxers come off, and at some point following that, Jeonghan gets two fingers in him while Junhui is suckling at the head of his cock. It’s sort of overwhelming, the way Junhui’s drawing his fingers up and down Seungcheol’s side, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and how Jeonghan, at the same time that his fingers prod and rub at Seungcheol’s prostate, is leaving open mouthed kisses and sharp nips at the sensitive spots on the insides of his thighs. Seungcheol is gripping tightly at the sheets that pool around him, his stomach feeling tight and his head fuzzy. 

He looks down at them with half-lidded eyes, and as soon as he sees the image before him, he can only toss his head back into the pillows. 

“Ah ah,” Jeonghan chides him. “Keep watching, pretty boy.”

It’s not a request, this much Seungcheol knows. His head snaps forwards, eyes still half lidded as they meet Junhui’s, whose tongue is rubbing against the spot right under the head that drives Seungcheol mental. 

“Hannie,” Seungcheol whines, but his hands move to grip at Junhui. “I’m going to cum if you guys don’t stop.”

Junhui stops just for a moment to say, “Good.” He swallows Seungcheol all the way again, this time with purpose. Seungcheol whines, his hips kicking, not sure whether he wants to fuck up into Junhui’s mouth or down onto Jeonghan’s fingers. 

“Surely you can go more than once for us, right baby?” Jeonghan asks, his fingers rubbing slow circles against his insides. 

Realistically speaking, Seungcheol would probably let them make him cum enough times for his orgasms to be dry, but that’s something to bring up on another day. (Because knowing Jeonghan, he’d delight in it. And knowing Junhui, he’d delight in anything Jeonghan delights in). “Yes,” he says, because this, too, is rhetorical. Jeonghan would have it his way and no one else’s and Seungcheol is a sucker for his word. 

“Good,” he says. Seungcheol revels in the praise, arching his back, “good boy. Keep doing that.” 

It’s not long before he’s spilling into Junhui’s mouth, unable to make more than a small squeak from the force of it. Jeonghan still, despite his very obvious orgasm, continues pressing his fingers against Seungcheol’s prostate. Junhui, however, lets up. 

“Can’t believe how good you are, Cheollie,” he hums sweetly, moving up to take Seungcheol’s earlobe between his teeth. Seungcheol is panting heavily, his stomach muscles constricting as the aftershocks continue to wash over him. “Cumming for us like that. I bet you still want more, though, hmm?”

_Always_ , is what Seungcheol feels like saying, but his tongue is thick in his mouth. It’s true; Seungcheol has the inkling suspicion that he’ll never be able to get enough of these two-- not that he’s complaining. He knows that how ever much he wants they’d be willing to give him. “Please,” is all he can manage. It’s the barest breath of a whisper, but Junhui still hears him. 

“What is it you want, baby?” Jeonghan asks. His fingers have stilled but he hasn’t yet removed them. 

“We won’t know unless you tell us.”

“Please fuck me,” he mumbles, shying away from their insistent stares. “One of you. I don’t care who.” Distantly, Seungcheol thinks that one day he might like to try and take both of them, but not tonight. He doesn’t know how much more he can take before he passes out. 

The two of them share a look, a silent conversation, one that Seungcheol would have noticed had his face not been buried in his own shoulder. Wordlessly, Jeonghan passes Junhui the lube, and moves so that he and Seungcheol are facing one another, with Seungcheol’s leg bracing his hip. His fingers are still inside. Seungcheol has the vague realization that he’s lost his pants and boxers, though when he has no clue. 

Seungcheol can feel Junhui lie beside him so that Seungcheol’s back is touching his chest. When prompted, Jeonghan moves his fingers so that they swap places with Junhui’s. His are thicker and shorter where Jeonghan’s were slender and long; they hit different places but make Seungcheol suck in a breath all the same. 

Junhui plays with him for a moment, scissoring his fingers and running the pads against Seungcheol’s prostate, sore and sensitive, but his cock is already starting to perk up again. 

“Junnie,” Seungcheol whimpers, pressing his hips back. He can feel Junhui’s cock, hard and warm, where it presses against his cheeks. “Please, before I die.”

Junhui chuckles. “You won’t die,” he tells Seungcheol as he presses his lips to the back of his neck. Jeonghan kisses his mouth at the same time that Junhui replaces his fingers with his cock, and Seungcheol feels like he’s seeing stars. 

It’s been a while, admittedly, since the last time he did this. It was some time like half a year ago, after a drunk night at the local club and a tall, strong man that said he’d looked pretty on the dance floor. Since then all he’d had were his fingers and his thoughts (and, he thinks bashfully, that small toy he’d bought when he was nineteen. It hardly did any justice for a man of his tastes now, but he supposed that sometimes it was better than getting that awkward crick in his wrist from trying to fuck himself comfortably). 

He feels full in a way he’d imagine is not dissimilar to how he feels after Jeonghan’s finished showering him in compliments after finishing a project for work; the mental kind of full that’s like his body is floating and his mind is empty. 

He’s making pitiful noises into Jeonghan’s mouth, but the latter doesn’t seem to care, if anything, he just drinks the sounds from Seungcheol and swallows them, tongue prodding and running deftly across the roof of his mouth. 

Junhui is holding him tightly, an arm braced across his chest as his hips thrust forward, making Seungcheol’s lax body jolt. Jeonghan is peppering kisses across his face and rubbing circles into his hips, telling him things like, _you’re so good for us_ , and _look at you, you’re so perfect_ , and _you’re doing so well, taking Junnie so good_ . It’s soon enough when Jeonghan spurts across Seungcheol’s abdomen, and, _fuck,_ Seungheol hadn’t even _thought_ to get him off, let alone realize he was doing it himself. 

He wants to apologize, but his stomach starts to feel tight, and Jeonghan is using his own cum as slick to jerk Seungcheol off and his body feels like it’s going into overdrive from the attention they’re giving him. 

“Junnie… Hannie,” he whines as warning, and if anything the two of them just take it as an excuse to do what they’re doing faster, more intensely. 

Like a cold rubber band snapping, Seungcheol lets go. It’s much more intense than the first time; his whole body lurches, his thighs trembling and voice cracking with his cry. They don’t let up until his breathing starts to mellow out. 

“So good,” Junhui hums in his ear. Jeonghan nods in agreement, tucking strands of Seungcheol’s mussed up hair behind his ear. After a few moments of thrusting shallowly, Junhui’s hips still, and he lets out a low groan against the heated skin of Seungcheol’s neck. 

For a while, they just hold him like that, one on either side, skin to skin, with the throw blanket haphazardly tossed over them due to the cold air from the air conditioner. Jeonghan whispers small praises against Seungcheol’s forehead and Junhui kisses gently at the back of his neck. 

“I feel icky,” Seungcheol mumbles after a while. Jeonghan laughs. Junhui moves for a moment to grab one of their shirts from the floor. He uses it to wipe the stickiness from between Seungcheol’s legs, his chest. “Thank you,” he says, pressing back against Junhui’s warm skin. “So,” he tacks on, “Boyfriends?”

Junhui and Jeonghan laugh. “Yes, Cheollie,” Jeonghan says. “Boyfriends.”

“Good,” he says. He’s grinning too. “Good.”

  
  



End file.
